


Être Maudit Par Dieu

by occultclysms



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Europe, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Strangers to Lovers, Wooing, hendery is a psychic, ten is a street artist, when in rome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occultclysms/pseuds/occultclysms
Summary: Hendery works as psychic thanks to his gifts in the so called spiritual arts, but when dreams of Ten, a famous street artist start invading Hendery's life, he has to take things into his own hands and hunt down Ten.Dream Fever & Moledro- This was written for Round 1 of Obscure Sorrows Fest [2020]
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	Être Maudit Par Dieu

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most difficult fic i've written all year and i have no clue why,,,, but i would like to thank isis for making this fic into something glorious i can share with the world,,, she's truly the best ;3
> 
> the title means to be cursed by god fyi
> 
> words used:
> 
> Dream Fever: n. the intense heat on the skin of a sleeping person, a radioactive byproduct of an idle mind humming with secret delusions which then vaporize when plunged into the cooling bath of reality, thus preventing a meltdown that could endanger those close by, who tolerate the risk because it gives them energy.
> 
> Moledro: n. a feeling of resonant connection with an author or artist you’ll never meet, who may have lived centuries ago and thousands of miles away but can still get inside your head and leave behind morsels of their experience, like the little piles of stones left by hikers that mark a hidden path through unfamiliar territory.

Hendery awakes with a start. He’s in his room. He’s okay. This is the third dream this week and it’s only Friday. This time Hendery saw him posing in front of the Eiffel Tower and laughing with another man. They didn’t seem to be anything more than friends, but Hendery could be wrong. Things can change.

Kicking the blankets off, Hendery pads over to his bathroom. He flicks on the water and checks the clock. 4:54 am. It’s too early, but it’s late enough that Hendery shouldn’t even bother going back to sleep. The shop could always use more cleaning. That’s a lie. This has been happening for weeks on end, and every day Hendery will get up early and clean either his tiny apartment or the store. The only positive side to this is neither place had ever been this clean.

But that still didn’t outweigh the negatives. Hendery’s sleep schedule is totally fucked, he wakes up soaked in sweat which has increased his amount of laundry tenfold, and worst of all; he cannot get  _ Ten _ out of his mind. Hendery already loves and adores Ten for his art. Every piece speaks to Hendery in a special way and sparked something deep within him. But now Hendery’s powers had started to fuck everything up as usual. His precognition liked to tell him everything Ten would do in the next several days. Then shock him awake.

Hendery steps into the shower, already feeling slightly cleaner. On the bright side, he can hear the birds chirping outside his bathroom window and his dream was of pg nature, so there weren’t any issues to take care of. Bad news, Hendery feels like his connection to the spirit world is getting fuzzy. Hendery tries to reach across into the world of the undead, not caring who he’s talking to. The connection takes three tries to make contact with anyone.

“This isn’t a good sign,” Hendery mumbles as he rinses the soap from his hair. He turns off the water and takes a look at himself in the mirror. He was born with all of his gifts, but has taken the time to refine a few with runes. There’s a strip of them that wrap around the right side of his ribs and Hendery runs his fingers across them, trying to revive his connection a bit.

All that happens is that Hendery is shocked into a vision of Ten sleeping with no shirt on next to the same man as before, also asleep. The clock behind them says one pm, so this must be in real time. It’s only five here, but if Ten really was in France, it would be right around one pm.

“That’s new.” Hendery exits the vision laying flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with his hair dripping water onto the floor. “I should really fix that crack in the ceiling.” But ceiling cracks would have to wait until tomorrow because right now Hendery needs food and to try and fix whatever is up with his powers. Things have happened before, but this is giving him nothing at all and customers generally don’t like being blindly lied to.

All things said and done, Hendery would be a shitty fake psychic. He can lie to people sometimes, but only when it’s super close to the truth; he can’t spout bullshit to people for an hour and then take their money. Moral conscience or something like that. Hendery walks into the other room of his apartment and starts his coffee pot.

Another downside of dreaming of Ten all the damn time, he’s going to go broke from drinking so much coffee. He can’t even afford Starbucks to begin with, so cheap grocery store coffee it is. Hendery stares at his bleak apartment, no pictures with family or friends, nothing on the walls, only a love seat, tiny kitchen and ancient TV.

A cockroach scurries across the floor, but Hendery is much too tired to chase it down. Whatever, at this rate, he’ll have to find a new profession that is more reliable than his picky powers. But what could Hendery even do? He didn’t graduate college, barely got through high school and has little to no skills. 

Feeling mopey, Hendery flicks on the TV. As always, it's on the news channel saying more depressing things about the economy and politics. Hendery normally doesn’t care too much about the news, but he does care about the economy. Mainly because when the economy is doing well, more people come in to the shop.

Speaking of, he should probably go organize things down there to be at least a little bit productive. Slipping on his coat and shoes, Hendery opens his door and walks down the narrow stairs that lead into the backroom of the store. Thankfully, Hendery remembers to duck when he reaches the bottom. Curse this old ass building.

Since it was built close to a hundred years ago, everything feels a bit too small. Maybe Hendery is just tall. But even still, fuck those dead people. One small positive thing about Hendery’s powers is whenever he’s in a bad mood, he can curse at the dead and they will actually hear him. On really bad days, he yells at Richard Nixon or J. Edgar Hoover.

Hendery flicks on the lights of the store and walks around behind the counter for a broom and dustpan. The store doesn’t really need to be cleaned anymore, considering Hendery has been doing this every day for the past few weeks, but what else is there to do. Hendery frowns and tries to find enough to do until the store opens.

ೋღ 🔮 ღೋ

One of Hendery’s regulars, Donghyuck, comes in. As usual, he’s wearing giant glasses and a baseball cap to hide his face. He’s embarrassed about coming to a psychic and to be honest, Hendery understands. Most other psychics are complete scams (he’s gone to a few just to see if any others had powers, but alas no luck). Hendery doesn’t bother greeting Donghyuck, he likes to look at everything before even acknowledging Hendery’s presence, which is perfectly fine with Hendery.

Donghyuck is a bit of a strange client, but it’s fine. He comes in with almost the same questions every week, so it shouldn’t be hard to deal with him. Hendery stands behind the counter of the store and rests his head in his palm. It’s been a long day even though nothing happened and if that doesn’t summarize Hendery, he doesn’t know what does. Donghyuck walks up to the counter and sets down a pack of tarot cards.

“I’m ready.” He really is weird, Hendery notes. And that probably meant something coming from a literal psychic. Hendery guides Donghyuck back through a beaded curtain he’d bought on a whim to the back room.

While the classic psychic aesthetic doesn't appeal to Hendery, he likes not to stand out, so with deep blue curtains covering the walls, a table with large, drapey cloth on top of it with a crystal ball just for good measure in the center of the table. There’s a pile of tarot cards to Hendery’s right and the pair sit down across from each other. 

Donghyuck and Hendery join hands across the table and Hendery closes his eyes, trying to reach into the spirit world at all. There’s something small building at the back of his mind and Hendery tries to grasp it, but it slips away.

“I want to speak to Mark,” Donghyuck says, voice slightly shaky.

Ah, yes, Mark. The boy who faked his death to get away from Donghyuck. He must have done a damn good job at it too because Donghyuck believes all of it. With a flare for the dramatics, Mark had faked a car crash in which he died, and now he’s living in Australia, dating some boy named Chan and having a blast. But that’s not what Donghyuck wants to hear, so that isn’t going to be what Hendery tells him.

“I’m reaching out to him,” Hendery replies. He can’t lie at all, so generally he calls upon Mark Tuan, a Mark who  _ actually _ died in a car crash to answer questions, so Hendery doesn’t have to lie. The things Hendery does for this fucking job. Only, he can’t reach Mark at all. There’s a little something, but nothing concrete enough to latch onto.

“What does he say?” Donghyuck presses, squeezing Hendery’s hands a little bit too tight.

Hendery can’t lie to save his life. Fuck. Here goes nothing.

“He’s happy in Heaven now,” Hendery begins, he can already feel sweat dripping down his neck and is willing to bet that his hands will get clammy in around two minutes. “He’s living with Chan now. Do you know any Chan’s in your life that could be?” Ah, yes, flip it right back to Donghyuck.

“Yeah, Mark’s penpal in Australia was named Chan,” Donghyuck admits. “They were such good friends too. What happened to Chan?” That’s not what Hendery was expecting, and clearly not what Hendery’s mouth had a response prepared for.

“He’s fine and they are living in Australia together,” Hendery blurts out. That’s clearly the wrong thing to say as Donghyuck yanks his hands away and his face twists on Hendery.

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Donghyuck crosses his arms and looks extremely hurt. Hendery’s already opened the can of worms, might as well pour them all over the table.

“Mark faked his death and moved to Australia with Chan and now they are happily dating.” Donghyuck’s face changes from shock to anger quickly and Hendery doesn’t see the slap coming, but honestly thinks he really isn’t the one who should be getting slapped in this situation.

“So you lied to me for  _ months _ thinking I would just keep coming and give you money. Did you get sick of the lie or something?” Donghyuck demands, practically screaming. Hendery clutches at his cheek and stares at Donghyuck.

“I told you what you wanted to believe, if you chose to really believe that Mark was dead when a toddler could have seen through that, that isn’t my fault,” Hendery comments, feeling astronomically tired even if it’s only a little past six. This time, Hendery should have really seen the slap coming, but he doesn’t and now he’s out even more cash and both cheeks ache.

Donghyuck storms out with some jumbled curses about killing Hendery and ruining his business, but Hendery ignores him and lets him go. Maybe Mark was right here? Hendery rests his forehead on the cheap fabric of the table for a few minutes and gives up. He should quit his job at this point. Because that was a hot mess, and Donghyuck isn’t even a skeptic.

Hendery drifts off at the table and a vision of Ten takes over his mind. Ten is walking along the beach topless, laughing and talking to someone behind Hendery’s range of vision. Making a kissy face at the person, Ten walks farther along the beach, but Hendery stays still, stuck watching him go.

Shooting up from his seat, Hendery looks around the room. Right, he’s not at the beach, he’s in his store. Rubbing the drool from his mouth, Hendery goes to close the store early. He locks the front door and turns off all of the lights. Today was a bust, but hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Hendery checks the clock before flopping into bed with his street clothes still on. 7:23 pm. So he slept for over an hour at his table. That’s just great. Now, he’s of course feeling restless. He stares at the ceiling in hopes of naturally falling asleep, but sleep doesn’t come for another hour.

The next days are much the same. Hendery can’t focus on any of his clients and ends up pissing off half of them, while the other half pity him enough to pay him. Things are a complete mess. Which is how Hendery finds himself standing in San Francisco International Airport. His flight to Rome, Italy is booked and going to depart in less than two hours. The store has been entrusted to the closest thing Hendery has to a friend, Kun. Even though they aren’t close, Hendery basically told Kun as long as he makes enough from sales to cover this month’s rent he can keep the rest.

If Hendery’s return in three weeks doesn’t solve his problem, he’ll have much bigger issues than the store. Settling aside those thoughts, Hendery walks up to the check in counter and checks his bags. Before he can weigh his bag, he gets another quick vision.

Ten is standing in a narrow brick alley, it’s daytime and he’s spraying paint in red, black and yellow across the wall. The picture is fuzzy enough to not be able to see the full picture, but Hendery sees Ten looking off to the left with black sunglasses, black floral shirt and tan shorts. He’s saying something to someone, but Hendery can’t hear any sound.

“Sir?” the airport employee waves a hand in front of Hendery’s face, trying to get his attention.

“Ah, yes,” Hendery replies, pretending like he has been paying attention the entire time. The airport employee frowns at him.

“Just a friendly reminder, Sir, but you may not be on any form of drugs and or alcohol. This is a government building—” Hendery raises up both hands in defense of himself.

“I promise I’m not on drugs!” Hendery exclaims. He catches a few head turns, and a few thoughts of ‘what’s up with this guy?’ but nothing major. The airplot employee still looks suspicious, but still checks Hendery’s bag and sends Hendery off towards security.

Hendery hates standing in line for things. It isn’t because he’s lazy or entitled, but because people’s thoughts are always much louder while he’s standing in line. Thankfully, with his powers acting up, he can only hear about half of the usual thoughts.

Security is easy enough, by Hendery’s standards. He’s asking to go through the fancy scanner where they can see you naked because he looks suspicious. No one says that to him, but Hendery knows. Chewing on his nails, eyes always bouncing around, of course he looks suspicious. But he doesn’t have to empty out his suitcase, so minor win.

Hendery finds his gate easily enough, only getting lost one time and he paces around the seats to try and keep himself awake. Last night, he only got three hours of sleep and it’s starting to get to him a bit. He’s called to line up for boarding and finds himself way at the back, which isn’t surprising since he bought a ticket so last minute.

Walking onto the flight, Hendery nervously finds his seat and stores his bag in the overhead. He doesn’t want to fall asleep on the flight, he knows that's a terrible idea with the way his dreams have been going.

Fighting the urge is easy for the first few hours, then the lights come down and Hendery finds himself lulled to sleep. There’s no dream which is almost worse than having a dream as it makes Hendery feel so anxious as he steps off the plane.

Waiting at baggage claim, Hendery taps his foot to try and think. Why wouldn’t he get a dream now? Every other time he’s closed his eyes for more than five minutes, there’s always Ten. Just Ten. Right as Hendery is reaching for his suitcase, he gets a vision. Ah, there it is. Better late than never.

Ten is sitting on the steps of a large building of columns and spires. The building looks familiar and Hendery uses all of his strength to zoom out to try and figure out where Ten is. If he isn’t in Rome, Hendery is going to flip his shit. Fifteen hours on a plane for nothing. 

With the building in complete clarity, Hendery recognizes it. The Pantheon. Hendery knows where that is, he can go there. Vision dissipated, Hendery turns to leave the airport, then remembers he still has to grab his bag. Hendery ignores any eyes on him, grabs his bag and hails a cab to his hotel.

Hendery is shaking with excitement as he bounds in the door of his hotel room, room key in one hand and bags in the other. He throws his bags on the bed, checks his pockets for the essentials (wallet, keys, phone) and nearly flies out the door.

ೋღ 🔮 ღೋ

That’s Ten. That’s really Ten. Sitting on the steps of the Pantheon and crying into his hands. He’s dressed warmer than the earlier visions with a loose sweater and jeans. Hendery’s feet act on their own and before he knows it, Hendery is crouching in front of Ten. This could go horribly wrong and end with Ten punching Hendery in the face, but at least Hendery will know he tried.

“Are you okay?” Hendery asks. It’s a shitty way to start a conversation, but it’s arguably better than explaining the whole vision mess. Ten looks up at Hendery and pouts causing Hendery’s heart to swell up. It breaks his heart that Ten is crying, but to be here, in front of the man he’s dreamed of for so long is almost magically.

Ten wipes the tears from his eyes and confesses, “My boyfriend broke up with me.” The other man in all of Hendery’s visions.

“That fucking sucks,” Hendery admits. “I’ve never been broken up with but I can imagine how much it would suck. You put your all into someone, and don’t get it right back.” 

So, maybe Hendery is projecting a little bit, but where else would he have the chance to? Ten will never know of Hendery’s love for him, but Hendery can still complain about his feelings.

“Dating is overrated,” Ten mumbles. Hendery moves to sit down next to Ten and looks over at him.

“Why do you say that?” Hendery pounders. “Just because one person can’t see your beauty doesn’t mean there’s not dozens or hundreds of others that can appreciate you.” Ten sits up straight and clasps his hands in his lap.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?” Ten asks and Hendery’s brain practically short circuits. But the price paid for that is a vision of the future. 

Hendery knows it’s the future because he’s looking at Ten, a few years older with darker hair standing in the kitchen, cooking food. He calls for someone and Hendery can hear footsteps on the stairs, but more than one set. Two small girls come and grab onto Ten’s legs and he smiles at them. Ten looks into what  _ feels _ like Hendery’s eyes and the moment ends.

“Are you still listening to me?” Ten asks, snapping his fingers in front of Hendery’s face, straightens up and laughs embarrassedly.

“I’m sorry; I just zone out sometimes and I will forget what’s going on,” Hendery explains, biting his tongue from elaborating any farther, Ten looks a little suspicious, yet he stands and offers Hendery his hand. Hendery takes it and electricity shoots through his veins. Is this what love at first sight feels like? Or maybe love at first touch?

“Wanna get a drink with me?” Ten asks again and Hendery nods. “I know a good place a few blocks from here.” Neither of them let go of each others hands and Hendery is sure his hands are sweaty, but Ten doesn’t seem to mind.

“Why are you in Rome?” Hendery asks. That’s the thing that’s been driving Hendery a little bit crazy. Ten is Thai, Hendery knows that much, and he knows that’s where he’s based.

“I was trying to get back in touch with my artistic side, and where else than Rome? One of the places I dreamed of going as a kid,” Ten explains, swinging their hands together as they walk along the cobblestone streets. “I brought my boyfriend with me as he’s a photographer, but things kinda blew up in my face.”

“Things blow up sometimes, that’s just how life is,” Hendery says, words not really coming from himself. Fuck. Did he get possessed by a ghost again? That’s both a good sign and a bad sign. Good because it means his powers are coming back to normal and being possesed is part of the job, Hendery would say. Bad because ghosts speaking through his mouth when he’s not advertising himself as a psychic doesn’t go well. Lending your mouth out to anyone is probably a bad idea, now that Hendery thinks about it.

“Who knew you were so wise?” Ten looks at Hendery and smiles, face perfectly illuminated by the street lamps in the dark. “So, why are you here in Rome? I’m assuming you’re not a native since you have no accent and don’t know your way around the city.”

“Yep, I’m from America and I’m just trying to take a break from my life,” Hendery says, trying to articulate his words enough to both explain why he’s here, but also avoid the very large elephant in the room that is Ten. Hendery is in love with Ten and now here he is holding hands with him as they enter an old timey bar all themed in dark browns with green and red here and there.

“Oooh, an American. How fancy,” Ten quirks, he separates their hands to pull out his wallet. Oh, right. Drinks need to be paid for, and money isn’t really on Hendery’s side here. Hendery pulls out his wallet and is about to start arguing with Ten about paying but Ten sticks a finger to Hendery’s lips. “You sought me out, even though I was crying. Let me pay for you.”

“But—”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can handle paying for both of our drinks. I’m actually a fairly well known artist.” Oh, boy, is that an understatement, Ten is world famous for his talent. “What do you want to drink? Ah, I don’t even know your name. So, give me your drink order and your name.”

“Do you want my number too?” Hendery teases, shocked at his own boldness.

“Sure,” replies Ten, handing over his phone.

“I’ll take a cherry coke mixed with any form of alcohol and my name is Hendery,” Hendery says as he types his number into Ten’s phone, astounded that he even got into this situation to begin with.

“Hendery,” Ten says, mouth forming the word like it’s something special and unique. “I like your name. I’m Ten, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Ten orders and Hendery is surprised to see there’s three little shot glasses next to his larger drink of coke.

“Take a shot with me.” Ten grabs one and Hendery mimics him. Hendery isn’t a huge drinker, okay scratch that, he rarely drinks ever and has gotten wasted one time, so when Ten links their arms together, Hendery is lost. “Drink up.”

Hendery throws his shot back, while trying not to jostle Ten’s arm too much. Swallowing down the alcohol, Hendery remembers why he doesn’t drink— it tastes disgusting. He fights back the urge to cough, instead, looking up at Ten, who’s already drunk the second shot.

“I’m already feeling better, I don’t know about you,” Ten says. “So, let's get to know each other a bit better.” Ten slides his barstool closer and Hendery swallows down his fear, leaning his elbow on the bar. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I didn’t go to college, I’m from the UK, I like cats but I don’t have any, and I’m a terrible insomniac,” Hendery confesses. Why he slips in a lie about where he’s from, Hendery has no idea. He can’t lie, so why. Unless, of course, there’s a ghost from the UK vibing inside of him. Ten starts rambling about his life back in Thailand and Hendery is intrigued. All of the things he’s ever read about Ten could never compare to listening to him talk on and on about his life. He’s so animated as he talks, throwing in voices and side comments that make Hendery laugh.

“Yeah, that’s my life story,” Ten concludes. “I hope I didn’t bore you too much.” The corner of Ten’s mouth is upturned and Hendery has the urge to kiss Ten. That’s not unusual, but certainly an unexpected feeling.

They talk into the night, drinks flowing easily between them, and Hendery only fights the urge to kiss Ten six times. Considering how gorgeous Ten looks, that’s a lowball number for sure. Ten goes on another ramble about paintbrushes and Hendery has a dopey smile the entire time.

Hendery is about to interject, then it feels like a damn has been broken inside of him. Everyone’s thoughts are swirling around him, and they are so  _ loud _ . So much louder than normal, it has Hendery feeling dizzy. One thought stands out amongst the rest.

“You were going to get married to Johnny?” Hendery asks, baffled and Ten’s face freezes. Go figure that the first thing Hendery blurts out once he powers come back to normal is a very personal thought of Ten’s.

“How do you know that?” Ten asks, looking crestfallen.

“You won’t believe me—”

“Try me,” Ten bites, legs crossed and sat up, away from Hendery.

“I’m a psychic who can also read minds, and that thought was just so loud in my brain, plus I’m tipsy, so I couldn’t keep it in,” Hendery tries to explain, but Ten is pissed and getting up to leave. Gripping at Ten’s wrist, Hendery latches on and says, “Please don’t go, Ten. I’m not lying.”

But Ten ignores Hendery, flipping him off and leaving the bar. Hendery rests his forehead on the bar and contemplates flying home tonight since things have been such an epic failure. Hendery’s words to Ten earlier come back, as a sort of reminder of what an idiot he is.

_ Things blow up sometimes, that’s just how life is. _ Well, what do you do after things blow up in your face? How do you mend the wounds given or learn to move on?

ೋღ 🔮 ღೋ

Browsing around another psychic’s store on one of his last nights in Rome isn’t really how Hendery planned this trip, but maybe he’ll get some tips of how to boost revenue from someone else. Flipping through a book, the book chimes open. Hendery uses remote viewing to look behind him; it’s Ten.

The book slips from Hendery’s hand, drawing the attention of Ten. Their eyes meet and Ten breaks contact first. Hendery wishes he had the power to open up his heart and show Ten how willing he is to risk it all for him. How he already had risked it all in a way.

Ten is about to walk back out of the store, but Hendery chases after him. They are both standing outside, street lights twinkling, moon shining, but the brightest thing in Hendery’s eyes is Ten. Ten stares at him. Waiting.

“Ten, I’m sorry,” Hendery confesses. “I didn’t particularly want to lie to you, but I felt like I had to. There’s no one in my life that knows anything about my powers. The closest person I have to a friend is Kun. He’s only really a casual acquaintance, and knows nothing of my powers. He just thinks I’m a really good scammer.” The street lights shine onto Ten’s face and he sniffles.

“So, you’ve never had anyone to really support you?” Ten wipes one of his eyes and Hendery resists the urge to wipe the other one. He really hates to see Ten cry because he’s arguably the person Hendery cares the most about. Call him crazy, but Hendery feels like he knows Ten inside and out.

“No,” Hendery mumbles, looking down at the cobblestones between his feet. Ten wraps his arms around Hendery’s waist, catching Hendery completely off guard, but Hendery lets his arms grip Ten back.

“How do I tie into all of this?” Ten asks, lightly swaying the two of them.

“I dream of you every night , and I have for weeks.” Hendery takes a deep breath. “I’ve been a fan of yours for longer, but no one ever knew who you were— just some edgy street artist.” At that Ten laughs.

“So, you get dreams of me, causing you to come to Rome?”

“They are more like visions, but I can’t control them. If I really wanted I could have looked you up anytime I wanted to, but I didn’t because I’m a big believer in privacy. Only, I would get these and I would see  _ you _ doing stuff with friends, drawing, everything.” Hendery can’t explain how good it feels to get that off his chest. After weeks of suffering, Hendery finally has someone he can open up to.

“So we’re soulmates?” Ten asks, and Hendery’s brain almost melts out of his skull. He’d never thought of it like that.

“I don’t know if that’s how I would interpret it, but I know we are connected somehow,” Hendery hedges. He would hate to get Ten’s hopes up then somehow not live to his expectations. “Without you around, my powers become fuzzy and my visions happen more randomly.”

“I see, so things are better when I’m around?”

“Yeah, being with you makes me feel like my brain has lost the cloud around it if that makes any sense.”

“I’ll take your word for it. This is so weird,” Ten says, rubbing Hendery’s back. “And normally I’m not a big believer in fate, but this a clear example of fate trying to bring us together. I have no more art jobs here for a while, but I don’t really stay anywhere for too long. Where are you from? On our date you said you’re from the UK, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“I’m from California,” Hendery confesses. “It’s really far from here, but that’s where I grew up and that’s where my store is.”

“So, let’s go back to California.”

“Why are you so okay with this?”

“Well,” Ten starts. “Part of me is screaming for me to run away because this is a terrible decision, but another part believes you completely and is always up for some adventure.” Breaking their hug, but intertwining their hands Ten adds, “Let’s go back to my hotel room and we can talk about this more in the morning.”

“I would like that,” Hendery says.

“But before that.” Ten grabs Hendery’s cheek with his free hand and pulls Hendery close. “Kiss me.” Hendery’s arm comes to wrap around Ten’s waist, and Ten smiles before lightly connecting their lips. Hendery’s heart swells and flowers seems to bloom in his chest, he kisses back with such fervor that Ten has to break apart their hands to grab at Hendery’s hip. There’s probably people staring, late at night or not, but Hendery can’t bring himself to care. All he can see, all he can feel, all there is, is Ten.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter please :3
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/carrotyeol)  
> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.qa/carrotyeol)


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